


Salikawood

by Rahmi



Series: A New World Born [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Chocobos, Developing Relationship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-11
Updated: 2006-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-07 13:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rahmi/pseuds/Rahmi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wanderings around Ivalice: Salikawood and Phon Coast. Vaan does something stupid. Again. A short follow-up to the Raithwall story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salikawood

Balthier has to restrain himself from crowing in delight when Vaan chooses to wander down one of the half-rotted roads of the Salikawood. The churl is a far sight better company than the Princess when she falls into one of her frequent moods, but he is almost. Never. Silent. Everything is new to him, from the lush green of the Highwastes to the crumbling grandeur of Raithwall's tomb.

Blessed silence reigns for a moment in the forest; Fran rests against a nearby tree trunk as Balthier cleans his weapon. She has a single ear cocked towards where Vaan has vanished.

The slight squish of fumbling footsteps causes him to tense, though Fran just shoots him an amused glance. He will admit to an unreasonable hatred of the pumpkin heads that roam the Salikawood. It turns out to be a simple wyrdhare, though, squealing with fright as it sprints away with all due haste.

"Faint-hearted, the hare does jerk at every hushed noise," Fran says.

Balthier drops his cloth back into his pouch with a sigh and holsters his gun. "Does it ever bother you that you share auditory anatomy with the creatures you so malign?"

"No."

"I thought all chocobos were supposed to be really violent," Vaan calls suddenly from around the bend.

"All but the yellow," Balthier affirms. He is well versed in the boy's random thoughts by now. They are so common place they fail to elicit even a question any longer.

"Okay," Vaan says, in a peculiar tone of voice that has both his and Fran's heads snapping up and around to where the churl has disappeared. Vaan rounds the bend a scant second later, holding one hand behind him as he coaxes something into following.

Balthier closes his eyes for a long moment as he mentally lists the many, many reasons taking a novice adventurer along could very well get them killed. Not the least of which included an idiotic Dalmascan rat-killer stroking the beak of a large brown chocobo with apparent affection.

"Okay," Vaan says again, "So why's this one so friendly?"

He was going to force the churl to read the Clan Primer as soon as they reached the Hunter's Camp. Or perhaps send him off with Basch and Ashe the next time they chose groups. He would like to see the reactions of their princess in the face of such rampant stupidity.

(He ignores the simple fact that he would not _trust_ Vaan to the care of Ashe and her knight; Basch's attention is ever and always on his princess, his blows meant to keep her safe from harm, even to the detriment of others. Penelo fares well with them because she is a mage, outside the range of melee weapons. Vaan would not be so lucky.)

"Stupid child," Fran hisses as she draws her bow from her shoulder.

"Now, Fran," Balthier begins, slowly raising his hands to his weapon, "There's no cause to shoot Vaan." His eyes are affixed to the hand Vaan is using to scratch the brown feathers about the base of the chocobo's beak. He rather hopes the boy won't lose that hand; they're damn hard to re-attach with nothing but a cure spell and a prayer.

"Huh?" Vaan draws his brows together, clucking at the bird, before he looks up enough to notice the two weapons pointed at the rather large chocobo leaning placidly against his side. "What? Hey, no! It's not doing anything to us!"

"Chocobos are dangerous," Balthier says slowly, as if for a small child, "Especially those that aren't yellow."

"It stinks of feces," Fran agrees. Her delicate nose rumples with distaste. "Feces. And mist. It is not safe."

"I know people who smell like this," Vaan sulks, tugging lightly on one of the bird's blue-tipped feathers. Balthier holds his breath when it opens its beak, but it only utters a contented sound instead of taking the churl's hand clean off. One should always be thankful for small miracles. "Come on, it's not that bad. He just smells kind of like—"

"He rolled about in his excrement," Balthier interrupts. He raises his eyebrows at Vaan and considers his chances of hitting the bird somewhere vital without rending a hole in Vaan as well. Not good. "I don't know what kind of people you keep company with, but I certainly wouldn't travel with them."

Fran has a clear shot. He cocks his head at her while he kept Vaan's, and the chocobo's, eyes on him. It will be better for all concerned if they did this as quickly as possible.

Vaan is a thief though, quick hands and lightning speed, and reacts far quicker than Balthier would have given him credit for. His sudden movement as he jerks between them and the beast startles the chocobo into hissing violently at everyone.

"He's not doing anything," Vaan insists. This is clearly not the case, Balthier thinks as it continues to make low hissing sounds. "Maybe we could ride him to Archades?"

Ignoring the logistics of placing two humes and a vierra onto a single, feral chocobo proves hard, but he refrains from commenting with great difficulty. Instead, he chooses to say, "Vaan. You cannot take that monster into Archades," though appealing to Vaan's sensibilities is a dicey game even on their best days.

Vaan's mouth opens to protest. "And you are certainly not taking the beast aboard the _Strahl_ ," Balthier says before Vaan can suggest such a thing.

Fran returns her arrow to its quiver and regards the boy and chocobo for a long moment. "Best to leave it where it is," she says softly, "Away from its forest it could be only miserable."

Balthier cannot say whether it is the honest knowledge in Fran's voice or the chocobo's abrupt movement to scratch its head with one giant foot that convinces Vaan it is best to simply drop it. He rather suspects it is the close call with the talons on the bird's feet.

"Alright," Vaan finally says. He gives the chocobo's head one final rub before telling the bird, "You should get out of here."

Surprisingly enough, the chocobo does just that, wandering off with unhurried footsteps. It stops once to nuzzle Vaan's chest with its massive beak, giving Balthier nightmares of being forced to replace the churl's entrails with nothing but a cure spell, a handful of potions, and his cranky vierra partner.

Vaan grumbles the entire way to the Camp and demands the Clan Primer once they've arrived.

Balthier manages to contain his scathing commentary on the mental maturity of Dalmascan orphans when it is returned with the words "Brown Not Dangerous" scrawled in wobbling childish letters over the page about the dangers of wild chocobos.

Still.

He pays the outrageous price for a tame chocobo while they are at the camp, taking the reins from the greedy little moogle's paws.

He ignores the knowing glance Fran sends him when he tugs the creature towards their sulking desert child. "You've a soft spot for strays," she tells him as she follows, no doubt to watch the show.

"I am driving home a lesson," Balthier states loftily. His hands clench on the reins. "Nothing more, Fran."

"Of course," she says, "And it is readily made with bribery, your point."

"It isn't a bribe."

"A token, then, of your remorse."

"I've done naught to apologize for!"

"Why're you yelling?" Vaan asks. He is sprawled in the shade of a palm tree, boots off and toes in the water. There is a black mood hanging over his head even as he twirls a blue-tipped brown feather between his fingers. How he manages to avoid snagging it in the articulated plates of his gauntlet is a mystery.

Balthier clears his throat pointedly at Fran until she stops smirking behind her claws. "It's no matter," he states, "A misunderstanding."

"Like you thinking all chocobos are dangerous." Vaan tucks the feather somewhere about his person, though where Balthier has no idea. The feather is not precisely small. "What are you doing with that one?"

"The question is: what are _you_ going to do with it?" Balthier taps Vaan's shoulder with the free end of the reins until the churl takes them from him, then steps back and rests his hands on his belt.

There is a particular itch between his shoulders that he has come to know means Fran is laughing at him behind his back. He ignores it as best he can. "This is a yellow chocobo," he says, "You may ride _this_ beast, and no others."

"You're going to let me ride?" Vaan hauls himself to his feet by using the chocobo's reins. It is a placid bird, enough so that it doesn't object to the rough handling of its mouth, and even offers a friendly noise of greeting when Vaan is eye to eye.

"Come now, you've ridden before," says Balthier.

Vaan only has eyes for the chocobo. "I get him to myself?"

"No sharing required," Balthier says, "At least for the next hour."

The sunny smile Vaan bestows on him is enough to make his heart flutter, damn it to hell.

"It seems you are forgiven," Fran murmurs lowly. He doesn't know why she bothers. Vaan is struggling mightily to reach the chocobo's back; he'll not hear a word they say.

"I maintain that I have done nothing that needed forgiveness," Balthier says, and watches Vaan fall from the chocobo, laughing like a lunatic.

"So you say." She makes a low, considering noise then says, "I go to practice magicks with Penelo. This spectacle is not nearly so absorbing of my attentions, despite your captivation."

Balthier makes a dismissive noise. "Please, Fran," he says, but she has already walked away from him.

It takes a few more tries until Vaan manages to reach the chocobo's back more or less gracelessly. "All right, then?" Balthier asks. He steadies Vaan when he wobbles. Vaan's skin is very warm against his palm.

When he lets go, Vaan leans forward on the chocobo in a way that is not entirely safe and grins. "Hey, Balthier," he says, impish smile firmly in place as he extends a hand, "Want a ride?"

Damn it all. He looks up at Vaan, backlit by the sun and grinning fit to burst, pale hair smeared to a halo of light. He is a monochrome thing on the chocobo, his skin the same pale gold as the underside of its feathers and his pants blending with the blue tassels on the its helm.

 _Yes, I would like a ride_ , Balthier thinks, vulgar enough that his long dead mother would be ashamed, _And that is precisely the problem._

Seventeen is older than sixteen, enough to be a man, a Judge Magister in Archades. Seventeen is adulthood in Archades and Dalmasca both, and yet compared to twenty-two it is so very young. Balthier keeps his thoughts behind his tongue where they belong and simply shakes his head. "Your time is ticking, Vaan," he says, "You've forty minutes left, at best. Do try to get my money's worth from the beast."

"Suit yourself," Vaan says.

"I always do," Balthier responds.

He leans against the nearby tree and watches as Vaan races the chocobo about, laughing as he chases Penelo or Basch or even Ashe to and fro, though he shows the good sense to leave Fran be. Penelo giggles helplessly when she slips in the sand; Ashe turns the tables and gives chase, shouting incomprehensibly whilst waving the Sword of Kings at Vaan's back with both hands. Her face is not nearly so dark as it has been since their little tête-á-tête.

Through it all, Vaan simply laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

Balthier tells himself he purchased the beast to silence any grumblings, and tries to ignore the feelings Vaan's laughter engenders.

**Author's Note:**

> Chocobo Feather: A feather the size of a butcher's knife. These are sturdier than they might appear, and suitable for use in armor, though they smell a mite foul.


End file.
